Heart
by Adverage
Summary: When it comes to love, we come around.   Brittana with other pairings throughout, told through chapters based off of the Stars album Heart, AU
1. What the Snowman Learned About Love

A story I previously posted on the Brittana LJ community, now to be picked up and continued here.

-octopunk

* * *

Quinn didn't know how long the girl had been standing there before she had appeared but she looked as if she would have been willing to wait as long as it took for something to happen. The blonde clasped her hands against her skirt and looked at her toes, now and then bouncing onto the balls of her feet or rolling her neck as she mouthed words to some song and wiggled to the imagined beat. She looked too benign to be the thing she had been dreading. Quinn enjoyed her space and as such had taken special measures to ensure that she wouldn't be forced to cohabitate with some immature party-girl, as such her single dorm was much appreciated and now it was being stolen from her by a girl too harmless to blame.

"Why're you waiting outside?" Quinn had found the girl there, surrounded by her luggage, after returning from psychology class, "Didn't they give you a key?"

"I lost it."

Quinn rolled her eyes and opened the door, turning on the light as she waited for her new roommate to follow her in.

"Don't make a habit of that, I can't come help you every time you need to get in. What's your name?"

"Brittany."

For someone so tall she noted that she was exceptionally graceful, wheeling her luggage in and around the dresser that intruded an inch or so into the doorway. Now and then even Quinn forgot about it and got tripped up but Brittany maneuvered like a ballerina.

"Quinn Fabray," Quinn offered her hand, wincing as Brittany dropped her duffle bag rather flatly onto the floor and returned the gesture, she had a soft handshake.

"You get this side of the room, that's your dresser, bathrooms down the hall."

Quinn set her backpack down on her bed and placed her hands on her hips, watching the girl unpack.

"Is that all you brought?"

"No, my sister's bringing the rest of it tomorrow."

"Your sister?"

"Yeah, she went here."

"Is that how you got in, legacy?"

Quinn hadn't meant for that to come out as insulting as it did, but she already had serious doubts that this girl had gotten in on her GPA.

"No, I'm in the dance program."

That explained the grace, and the legs. Quinn had been eyeing her legs, there was strength there, physical strength, pick you up and never drop you strength. Her calves were compact and muscled leading into toned thighs, which were mostly visible beneath her short skirt. Quinn put on a smirk; Brittany only looked at her confused, not realizing the degree to which she was being studied, "What kind of dance?"

"Uh," Brittany looked to her left, unnecessarily baffled by the question, "The moving kind mostly."

Brittany was saved from further explanation by a knock on the door, which she for some reason snapped to answer feeling rather uncomfortable with the sudden scrutiny of her figure. She thought she felt Quinn staring at her ass; it bothered her for about a second before she opened the door. The girl on the other side stood a few inches shorter than her with a large amount of unconfined shiny black hair. The angles of her face appeared round and yet found themselves whetted in the venom of dark suspicious eyes. Her skin was the color of caramel candy, Brittany licked her lips.

Santana's eyes widened for a second realizing that this blonde was not the one to which she was accustomed, the first hint was that she was tall, like 'five feet eight inches staring down at her with big blue eyes' tall. This made it impossible to shoot her half-jealous/half-questioning look over her shoulder and instead she had to lean around her to get a glimpse of Quinn who, sure enough, was wearing the most impure, shit eating, 'look what I got' smirk she could muster.

"H-hi."

Santana refocused on Quinn's new roommate as she put on her pretty little tight-lipped smile, "Hey, I'm Santana."

"Brittany."

"She's in the dance program," Quinn cheeped from behind her, Santana paid a bit more attention to the muscle definition as she dissected Quinn's self-promoting tone, she wanted to flip her the bird but Brittany was already looking between the pair of them trying to get the joke she was obviously missing.

"Nice, well, sorry for interrupting, I was just coming around to…de-stress."

"She's got a gig tonight."

Brittany, finally picking back up on the conversation, turned to Santana smiling. She felt the tiny rush of adrenaline flutter just below her ribs, be still her heart, this girl was adorable.

"You're a musician?"

Santana felt the snarky remark regarding the obviousness of that fact burning like bile in the back of her throat, she swallowed it and traded for a simple, "Yep," with only a bit of that frustrated sarcasm. Brittany felt Quinn's arm around her shoulders and looked down to see the girl smiling, "Oh, she's being modest. She's really good, you should come, it can be like a welcome to campus experience."

For a second they were all left smiling at one another in some weird ritual of confirmation before Quinn relinquished her somewhat possessive contact of Brittany and grabbed Santana's wrist. "Well, you can go ahead and change or whatever, I'll give you your privacy." The door shut on Brittany looking down at her outfit, contemplating why exactly it needed to be altered. The second the lock clicked Santana's face dropped and Quinn covered her mouth, trying to keep in giggles that she knew would earn her injury.

"How jealous are you right now?"

Santana gave a kind of smile-scowl, her eyes narrowed, it was an expression quite common to her face, "Shut up, aren't you meeting with your boyfriend in half-an-hour?"

Quinn bit her bottom lip and tugged on the top of Santana's jeans, she got close and worked her magic on dark brown eyes, one of her eyebrows quirked in a suggestive kind of way. Except Quinn Fabray was never suggestive, so it was more like an ironic joke. Like, you felt bad for thinking it was a sex thing, even if it was.

And Santana had realized it always was.

"You're the one who came here to 'de-stress'."

Quinn was like this slender blonde galactic force, if she got close enough to you there was nothing you could do against the gravitational pull, unless of course you're Santana Lopez. If you're Santana Lopez you get close enough to smell her strawberry shampoo, close enough to feel heat on your lips, you look her in the eyes and without a second thought you turn and leave, saying something insulting over your shoulder like, "You're boyfriend's waiting, slut."

Quinn furrowed her brow and gave a disbelieving kind of laugh as she watched Santana sashay her way down the hallway without a glance backwards.

Brittany, unknowing of what dress code she had broken in her previous outfit, had been anxious about choosing a second one but when she emerged in a pair of slim jeans and a striped tank top there was no dissent from Quinn. Then again she appeared too distracted to care.

* * *

Puck didn't really like coming to these things, they were infested with all of the art kids who just sat around drinking coffee and being pretentious. It made Finn and him stick out like two big sore jock thumbs, not to mention he wanted to knock every single one of them down a peg.

"Come on man, I don't wanna be here."

Finn was swaying beside him cluelessly to some kind of weird poetry session that was being put on by a bunch of losers, "Why? I mean, Quinn's not here yet and won't Santana be angry if we, you know, ditch?"

Santana's wrath was something to fear, but its not like she could really do anything, besides she understood that this wasn't his thing. They got each other. Quinn was a different kind of thing, sure, he'd pretty much stick around anywhere to get to spend time near her but watching her all over Finn? Not his idea of a fun night on the town.

"I'm not scared of Santana dude, come on."

If he pestered Finn enough and played the Bro card he was sure he could convince him to find a party or a frat house to hang around at and he was already wearing that beat-up puppy look that marked inner turmoil.

"Come on, this is lame."

"But Quinn…"

"What about Quinn?"

Speak of the pretty blonde devil and she shall appear, dragging along some hot clueless-looking girl. Puck rolled his eyes; there goes any chance of getting out of this. He felt his stomach drop into his hips as Quinn set her palms against Finn's hulking shoulders, the pair of them kissed hello and he and Brittany were left to make awkward eye contact. He was so distraught he didn't even remember to put on his sex smirk.

"Hey Puck," He was bathed in her attention for a mere moment before Brittany was pushed into him, "This is Brittany, my new roommate."

Puck knew a peace offering when he saw one. Quinn did this sometimes, requested his permission to watch him squirm and then threw some pretty girl at him. It was a cruel practice but he didn't always mind, he got sex and she got whatever sick kicks she was going for. It's not like the girls were complaining either, after all, he was a stud. This girl however seemed a bit off, instead of twirling her hair or laughing at everything he said she just kept looking at the stage like she was actually interested in what was going on. When the poetry session was done she even clapped and hooted a bit in a ditzy good-natured way. Quinn and Finn had gone found a couch near the front to snuggle on and Puck managed to ignore the mocking glances Quinn kept giving him long enough to be a gentleman and get Brittany a drink.

She took one sip and her face screwed up, "Fruity."

"Yeah, girls like that stuff right?"

"Not all the time." She took another sip and made the same face as if she'd expected the taste to change, she eyed Puck's glass, "It's Jack and Coke"

Brittany smiled as her eyebrows shot up, Puck laughed.

"Knock yourself out."

She took a swig of it and looked at him, "How did you get booze?"

"Don't question the way of the badass darlin'"

"Is that like…karate?"

"Sure, yeah whatever."

Quinn was looking at him over Finn's shoulder again and he couldn't concentrate on what was being said. Brittany took another drink of whiskey, "So are you and Quinn, like messing around behind Finn's back or what?" Brittany deadpanned regaining Puck's attention in its entirety.

"Where'd that come from?"

"I watched this thing on the discovery channel about birds who do this dance to mate or whatever, that's what you guys look like."

He couldn't tell if that was an insult or not, but just being so easy to read made him want to sulk, he leaned against their table, "Yeah I wish, she won't even give me the time of day."

Brittany intercepted one of the sex-glances Quinn was giving out, "I think it's like, ten o'clock."

Puck rolled his eyes, for being so insightful she sure was scatterbrained.

Someone onstage was introducing the next act and Brittany's ears perked up when she heard the words 'Santana Lopez.' Once again she was sent into an exciting hooting fit to such a point that Puck had to grab her by the shoulders and wrestled her back to her seat to calm her down and even then she fidgeted in place.

Santana brought an acoustic guitar on stage, fully dressed for the role of expressive musician. Brittany and Puck wore the same expression of awe and neither knew who said it as the thought was shared between them, "She's gorgeous." With the origin of the comment unknown both of them found it suitable to nod. Her stage presence was one of confidence; one of expectation for the upcoming show and neither her nor Puck could stand to comment, for fear of missing a word.

Santana's voice wasn't gentle; it wasn't something you could really compare to honey or something because it wasn't honey. It was sandpaper in the good way, it was like some weirdly deep cave and there weren't any lights and you wanted to go explore but you had to risk cutting your knees on rocks or tripping now and then and it felt real. It felt like something you could hold onto and carry with you and by the time her first song was done and her guitar got quiet Brittany returned to her whooping excitement and not even Puck could manage to pull her back to sanity. Santana rolled her eyes but couldn't force her grin back down her throat. The interaction repeated after each song and by the end of it, it wasn't just Brittany participating in the fanfare. Quinn had walked back to accompany her in supporting her best friend and even Puck clapped as enthusiastically as he could, assisted by a bit of alcohol. Having traded drinks with Brittany he'd downed the fruity cocktail as quickly as he could in an effort not to taste it. He felt it taking effect, rising like a vapor in his chest, he ballooned with it, smiling and putting his hands on Brittany's hips, she kind of looked like Quinn after all. Brittany didn't mind, she never minded she danced with him to Santana's last song, hardly feeling him. Only listening to that sandpaper touch, like being tied with silk, like falling into a dark place.

When it was done Quinn came over and gave her this little look of encouragement and she was confused for a second until she realized that the warmth she was feeling wasn't just the music but Puck's head buried in her hair.

"Oh."

"If you guys wanna go back to our dorm you can, Finn and I were gonna head to his apartment."

Puck returned to some semblance of his senses at the sound of Quinn's voice and he pulled himself away from the body he suddenly realized wasn't her. What he found was hardly pleasing, Finn and Quinn fused to each others sides like some Siamese sex twin, their intentions were obvious, or at least Finn's were. It was impossible to accuse Quinn with her light-eyed god-loving ways of any serious impurity. He wanted to punch Finn as hard as he could in the face but cemented his hands back on Brittany's waist instead, "Sounds good."

He pulled her back against him and steered her towards the door even as she looked over her shoulder to see Santana approaching where she'd been only moments before. She wanted to knee him in the groin just to go speak to her but was out the door before she could put her plan to action. By the time the door closed she couldn't argue much with Puck's tongue down her throat and all, he pressed her against the wall and had his hands all over her in about three seconds flat. When he pulled away to breath, or look at her breasts or something, she managed to say, "I'm not Quinn."

Puck stopped cold and let his hand slide off of her hip; he gave off a ton of heat, like some weird walking energy-ball. He looked at their shoes, "I know."

"So, we can just like, say we did? Then you can go and get drunk or whatever guys do when they're sad."

He pushed off the wall and turned his back, storming in the other direction, "Fuck this, I can't even manage a hook-up anymore. I must be really messed up."

Brittany looked after him, not fully comprehending and choosing instead to focus on the sudden rush of cold that filled the space where Puck had been. She had always hated the feeling of being suddenly left alone and thought for a second of calling him back, of taking him back to her new bed and sleeping with him because she didn't really like being alone and she knew he wouldn't turn him down. That wasn't right though was it, new school, new way of thinking, isn't that what everybody wants?

"Was he hurting you or something? Cause I can talk to him, he's kind of an ass."

Brittany spun around so fast her hair smacked her in her eyes. Santana stood there with her acoustic guitar case over her shoulder as if she'd just walked out of some classic rock song.

Santana quirked an eyebrow, she still hadn't figured this girl out.

"He's just drunk."

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"What?"

"Did he hurt you?" She sounded a bit more impatient, how does someone get impatient about helping you?

"Oh, no, he just ditched me," Brittany shrugged then realized that being ditched didn't sound much better than being hurt, "But it's fine."

"Being ditched is fine?"

"Yeah, cause I wanted to stay and tell you how awesome you were anyway."

For the first time she could remember, whatever words Santana had been planning to say were lost in her open mouth as she looked at the girl smiling at her. She choked on some sort of mixed sound before exhaling the air she'd been planning on turning into speech and ending with a small sounding, "Thanks."

"Welcome, I usually can't dance to acoustic stuff."

"You were dancing?"

"Kinda, with Puck, but he can't really _dance _dance, he just kind of pushes into you and smells you and stuff. That's how most guys dance, except for like, the gay ones."

Santana laughed before she even knew why, "Thanks for the visual."

They were quiet for a second; Santana adjusted her guitar strap before starting again, "So are you two dating or something?"

"Er, we just met."

"So?"

"So, I don't think so."

"Good, he's a jerk. He cheated on me like a thousand times."

Brittany felt a twitch in her shoulder and her back straightened up, like she knew she had to begin paying close attention.

"You guys dated?"

Santana rolled her eyes, "For like two weeks but I'm pretty sure he was into Quinn then too."

"Oh." When Brittany looked at her she looked her straight in the eye, she figured it had something to do with her not being afraid yet, but it was kind of nice, the only other person who looked at her like that was Quinn and she wasn't nearly as friendly.

"Don't date him."

Had they been standing this close together the entire time? Had they been looking each other in the eye? The intensity of proximity suddenly intimidated her and Santana nearly wanted to look away.

Nearly.

She was still Santana Lopez after all, but Brittany was biting her bottom lip and Santana could feel a layer of heat right below her skin. This was a familiar scene and yet the impression was different, they'd forgotten their lines.

"Don't worry, I didn't want to."

Brittany touched her hand, sliding her fingertips slowly from the base of her pinky across her palm, inching down so their fingertips ghosted one another and Santana felt like she'd just done heroin, she could _feel _her pupils dilating. There wasn't much contact; their bodies hardly touched besides maybe the toes of their shoes set against one another on the concrete but Brittany might as well have had her hands down Santana's pants with the way her heart was beating. The little bit of contact she did get was magnified, Brittany's other hand going to her wrist, the ghostly redolence of whiskey on her teeth as hot breath ran over her chin and down her neck right before they kissed. Despite the separation there was no chastity, Brittany's mouth was open just enough to let the warmth that accompanied a cavity of life pour into Santana like warm syrup.

It was like laying in sunlight.

"Santana."

Brittany pulled away, mostly because Santana wasn't going to. She turned to see Quinn looking at her with a scowl on her face and never had she wanted to punch that little blonde bitch out anymore than at that moment. Brittany's hand dropped and she turned too look at her roommate, staring for a second before whispering, "Go ahead."

Santana didn't need permission to do anything but she could feel her hands shaking like she'd overdosed, maybe she had, maybe being that close to Brittany, even when it wasn't nearly close enough, maybe it was dangerous. It sure felt dangerous.

She nodded her head and turned like a whip cracking, and as she fell in step with Quinn she couldn't help but mutter, "How jealous are you right now?"


	2. Elevator Love Letter

Sex with Puck was okay, he was hot and confident so she knew it wasn't going to be bad. He'd showed up the next day at her dorm with his hands forearms deep in his jean pockets and this apologetic look like he really cared. Quinn hadn't come back the night before and sleeping alone in a new place was not something Brittany did well. The added adrenaline that rushed through her with each reiteration of her encounter with Santana didn't help at all.

She'd kissed girls before; she had in high school, girls on her cheerleading squad, girl's who came to sleepovers. Touches that started at truth or dare lead to clandestine meetings underneath the bleachers but there was never much feeling. She'd heard girls say that before, that they kissed girls for kicks because girls are soft and their sex is symmetry, and then they returned to the strong hairy arms of their boyfriends and husbands. It was like they were taking a tour, like one of those movie-mystery dinners and by the end of it you get to pick your identity back up and walk away. Sometimes she felt like that, except when she went back to get her identity it wasn't there and she was left standing in the same skin she'd always had. It was the same with boys, smile, talk, sex, leave and everybody is equally disappointing. That was why she wasn't shy, never shy about what or who she wanted because part of her was addicted to the ritual and the other part wanted to get it over with. She recalled Santana's hands, the smooth surface of her palm marked with the lines of life was like a concentrated dose of sensation and for someone like her, someone who'd hardly even ever had a taste of such a mystical thing, was still reeling with the encounter.

Which was probably why the sex with Puck was only okay.

It was like a fruit cocktail and whiskey, you can't beat authenticity with the expected stereotype, at least he couldn't.

He said he was an ass, using an inflection identical to the one Santana had used the night before, leaving her to wonder whether they'd spoken about his behavior, her suspicions were confirmed when he asked her out for lunch, no way he came up with that one on his own. When he talked he talked about the same stuff most boys did, sports and his friends and the future. Men are ambitious, women are introspective, and people thought she didn't notice these things.

"So I thought, you're hot, I'm hot and you don't seem to mind the whole Quinn thing, so maybe we could hang out sometime?"

"I won't date you."

He scowled for a second before the idea occurred to him, "Can we screw anyway?" And that was how she ended up where she was, pinned beneath Puck as he tensed and collapsed beside her, he hadn't even taken his pants all the way off. She'd made sure she kept her hair in front of her face most of the time so he could pretend she was Quinn, Brittany was nothing if not uncompromisingly good-natured. It wasn't ideal but she had a body beside her and she didn't feel quite as lonely, plus if she squinted and pretended she could imagine Santana, they had the same skin tone and she had a good imagination.

She managed to lay there for about ten minutes, long enough to feign the same exhaustion Puck was experiencing, she'd learned guys liked to think they'd tired you out, before she got too warm to remain in place. Puck was like some weird space heater, like his libido was giving him a literal fever.

They'd gone back to the apartment that he and Finn shared, fearing Quinn's eventual and imminent return to their dorm room. She slid her underwear back up her legs and detangled her jeans accidentally putting them on backwards on her first attempt. When she finally had them up to her thighs she did a little hop to get them the rest of the way up, she heard Puck chuckle.

"You're pretty cute."

"Thanks."

Puck lay with his hands behind his head displaying the wealth of his muscled arms, "You're leaving then?"

"Uh-huh, figure you'll remember I'm not Quinn once the sex-sleepy wears off."

It wasn't a mocking comment, she meant no insult, she was just stating facts as clearly as she always tended too, her voice light her gaze-fixed in a vacant kind of way.

"Jeeze, ouch,"

"Did you pinch yourself or something?"

Puck was quiet for a moment; he figured that was the best way to respond to Brittany's little comments.

"I don't really wanna be that guy."

"What guy?" Brittany looked around the room attempting to identify this mysterious third party.

"The guy who lets you leave his apartment after only okay sex because of some sappy emotional shit, I mean, you're smokin'."

"No dating." She remembered Santana's words, 'Don't date him,' clear and concise words that were not to be disobeyed.

Don't date him, don't date him, don't date him. 'Date me.'

Even as she imagined those words in Santana's voice her ears felt hot.  
"Just sex?" He questioned, the note in his voice made her think that some small part of him still believed those things need be connected, she nodded, "Sex isn't dating."

She got back to her dorm in time to help her sister lug a bunch of her shit up three flight of stairs, by the third bag of belongings Quinn had returned and was eyeing her like she knew some dirty secrets. Which it turned out she did.

Her sister kissed her goodbye, promising to visit for dinner once a week or something and left. Brittany felt the lock click; it felt like a pinprick. Being left alone with Quinn felt just like being left alone.

"You've been out all day?"

Brittany tried to pretend to sort through her clothes but was so distracted by Quinn's speculative looks that she just ended up taking the same shirt out and putting it back whenever her hands moved, "I was checking out the school, and I had dance orientation."

"I heard you were checking out Puck."

"That too."

She was a terrible liar, so she just didn't lie.

Quinn smiled saccharine but it couldn't melt her eyes, the slight hint of something terribly out of place. Quinn's hands were light as paper as she set one them on Brittany's shoulder, "Congrats, he's hot."

"We're not dating."

Quinn's smile dropped, but her eyes came back to life, "Oh?"

"Just sex."

"Oh."

"So you're weird 'behind everybody's back not sex' sex-fight-thing can keep going or whatever." That shut her up long enough to grab her bag and be out the door leaving behind the words, "Math class."

She was glad she'd transferred between semesters even if the process had caused her to brush up against the beginning of classes as she was getting settled. The newness of the semester kept her from having to explain herself to fellow classmates who looked just as lost with the new surroundings. A few students mulled about the class entrance, not wanting to choose a seat before observing exactly whom it was they'd be sitting beside. Such a decision was made easy for her, back of the class where she could cheat, that was where she belonged. She'd just flirt with whoever happened to fill the space beside her and as soon as that space was filled that was just what she did.

Brittany looked up to see a round-faced kid with perfect hair setting a very strange looking man-bag in the seat on his other side, he was dressed as a mix between a navy commandant and an Abercrombie and Fitch model, which instantly confused her. So she didn't end up batting her eyelashes and doing her whole seductive smile routine until she'd already been staring at him for about three seconds with her forehead rumpled from her lack of comprehension.

"Do you need something?"

His eyes were wide and they kept darting to the front of the classroom like he regretted his seating selection.

"No. I'm Brittany."

"Of course you are." His hand was gravitating back towards his bag.

"I like your shiny coat."

His arm stopped mid-reach and he turned back to look at her, "It's Versace, I'm Kurt."

He swung his hand around and offered it to her in a feminine way as he made his decision to sink gracefully into the seat beside her. Brittany smiled at him and he said something like, 'Enchante,' which only made Brittany confused again.

"I don't speak Spanish."

"Neither do I," He was giving her that strange look but didn't need to pause to do it which she figured was some sort of progress; she'd noticed that sometimes it took people awhile to understand it, she used to think it was because she mumbled. Brittany licked her lips and leaned over a bit, she'd worn a low-cut top and showing cleavage was never a bad idea when cheating in academics was involved.

"So, what are you studying?"

Kurt turned to speak and his eyebrows immediately shot to the top of his forehead at the compromising position into which Brittany had arranged herself.

"Fashion, by the way, it's a bit early in the season for low-cut tops."

Big gay hint, Brittany didn't get it.

"That's hot."

Kurt cleared his throat with that same wide-eyed look still on his face. The five seconds of silence was him attempting to think up a gentle way to phrase it, an endeavor that ended in failure.

"Okay, that's going to have to stop."

"Huh?"

"The flirting thing, it's uncomfortable, I don't swing in your direction."

"Are we talking about baseball now?"

"No, we're talking about sex."

Okay, there was something Brittany knew about.

"I'm gay," Kurt had learned over the years that no matter how many times you came out it was always a bit uncomfortable but he'd promised himself a long time ago that he wouldn't bother with anybody who wasn't willing to take that news and keep on sticking. Brittany fell gracefully into that category as a big smile broke her face, "Cool, I know lots of gay guys. They're in dance."

"Not really my type."

"You don't like dancing?" Brittany looked oddly crestfallen.

"No, not that, I love dancing, I just like more butch guys."

"Does that have something to do with baking?"

"No, like guys who play football and have arms carved out of stone."

"Oh, yeah, they're cool."

"Cool, huh? What's your type then?"

"AB positive, why?"

This time Kurt didn't miss a beat, "I was planning on getting in a car crash and I needed to know I had a donor. What kind of boys do you like?"

"Why would you plan…Oh. Uh," Brittany got a very vivid image of wavy black hair and naturally tanned skin, "Musicians."

"Into the whole sensitive thing? Yeah, I get that. I play the piano and stuff but it's by no means my calling."

The professor had take up position at the front of the class and all further conversation devolved into comments on his ridiculous sweater and explanations of why it was counterproductive to turn all of her geometric shapes into pictures of farm animals. When it was over she was handed a piece of paper with a phone number on it as Kurt adjusted his bag over his shoulder, "There's a party near the commons tonight, mostly art kids. Maybe you can find yourself a musician." He winked as he walked away.

She ended up back at Puck's apartment; mostly because she didn't want to deal with whatever anger Quinn had managed to muster in the past hour and a half. He leaned against the doorframe and smirked, "Come back for more huh?"

The comment was somewhat half-hearted and given with a smile.

"Not really, but I'd like to watch your TV or something."

* * *

The party was in one of the town houses off of the commons, Kurt dropped by Puck's apartment to pick her up, his jaw unhinging when one of Puck's muscled roomates opened the front door. He spent the entire walk there obsessing over jocks, making this weird face whenever she brought up Quinn or Finn or both of them together. She didn't really ask him about it, she figured it was a gay thing.

"Quinn might be here."

Brittany was so distracted by such a statement that for a moment she forgot how to walk and had to stumble through a few steps before regaining herself, "What! Hey! You didn't tell me that."

Kurt shrugged mounting the front steps, "I didn't know I was supposed to. She's studying psychology or communications or something but she's always around because she's friend with Mercedes and Lopez, and I think Berry too but that's not something I can quantify."

"Lopez? Like the Santana kind of Lopez?"

"Yeah, she's in the music program so sometimes she's around, don't worry, they've both got their noses so high in the air they can hardly see anybody so we should be fine." The statement didn't stop Brittany from being worried, or anxious, or trying to reassure herself that neither of them would be there and she shouldn't turn around and walk away because Kurt was really nice and she needed to loosen up and if she didn't go, well she'd probably end up back at Puck's.

Kurt knocked and a black girl answered dressed in a Technicolor hoodie and lots of gold jewelry, "Hey! I didn't know if you were gonna come, you're gonna be happy. Someone brought some Frat boys over, might be working on your conversions tonight." Both of them laughed and Brittany thought that even their laughs kind of went together in terms of harmony.

"Britt this is Mercedes, Mercedes, Brittany, I found her in my math class. She's a dancer so I figured I could introduce her to the art freak crowd."

Mercedes eyed her a bit suspiciously but mustered all the good will she could for their handshake, Brittany didn't really see all of this though, she had already become distracted by the loud music pumping its way out of an expensive looking stereo system.

"Nice to meet you, we got beer and stuff upstairs, no smoking weed in the house and if you get caught in the parking lot or something you take all the heat for that shit okay?"

Brittany nodded obediently, bowled over by Mercedes level of authority and proceeded to wander upstairs as she and Kurt broke into conversation. Every step she took was to the beat of the music, which had already taken up a comfortable residence in her muscles where it was controlling a large portion of her movement. She wiggled her hips as she grabbed a can of beer and watched some of the guys ogle her, it was attention she never found disagreeable and to show off she dropped low to the ground and bounced back up in a sexy fluid motion satisfied with the way their eyes widened. She didn't really want to force conversation with one of them though and proceeded to wander about the house sipping now and then on her beer. It was a largish three-level townhouse and by the décor she figured it was shared between a few people. The first and second floors were packed with laughing, talking progressively more drunk bodies but she found the top floor quieter, inhabited only by two individuals talking in the main room and a couple making out on the couch. She wasn't exactly looking for quiet, she was simply exploring space because it was there and she was curious. The last alcove of unexplored space was a hallway ending in what appeared to be a closet flanked with a single, slightly ajar door. Brittany swayed in space for a moment to the music, setting her barely sipped beer can down on an unused beer pong table. Here her dancing is ignored, which she doesn't really mind and so she does a few more steps before the song changed and in the space between the sound she saw shadows moving behind the slightly open door.

It wasn't something she was supposed to see but she never really considered that and so she walked a little closer, before she could make out individuals she could tell that it was a bedroom. The walls were decorated with strange gothic art and other slightly outlandish things that she could tell wouldn't belong to Mercedes. Surely it belonged to a housemate and she could tell from the movement of the bodies she saw that whoever was in it now was having sex.

It's not like she was into voyeurism or anything, at least not really, she was just kind of trapped in this current that brought her to the door and she didn't really have the sense to step out of its path. She fit her eye to the slot like it was a peep show.

It was a peep show but it wasn't what she expected.

At first she didn't recognize Quinn, which might have just been because she was too busy recognizing Santana. Santana who had her teeth into Quinn's collar bone, whose long hair was flowing over Quinn's pale back, she was still mostly clothed, her jeans remained tight around her hips, shirt removed but bra still clasped. Quinn sat in her lap on the edge of the bed, baby-doll dress hiked up and panties removed moaning and bouncing her hips against Santana's hands. She couldn't see Quinn's face and for a moment she couldn't see Santana's until the girl threw her head back, tossing her hair over her shoulder wearing a look of sensual prowess, a look of power and control. Brittany watched her observe Quinn's face for a moment before switching her gaze and to Brittany's terror making eye contact with her. Santana's eyes widened for a moment before settling back into a dominant gaze, she sucked on Quinn's neck, quickening her pace, all the while keeping her eyes locked to Brittany's.

"Mmm, Fuck, Santana."

Quinn's voice was high pitched, her head thrown back as she rolled her hips against her friend. Brittany's body was flush with heat as Santana just looked at her, as she watched the pair it was almost like she felt it. Felt the rhythm as it went in time to the music, felt Santana's teeth at her throat, felt her hands…

Quinn buried her face in Santana's hair and screamed as she came but Santana's eyes never left Brittany's. They were on fire with something crazy, something dark and inexplicable and potent and Brittany felt her heart beating hard against her chest, she thought the sound of it was coming out her mouth and so she covered it with her hand. As Quinn began to turn she jerked away from the door and pressed herself against the wall beside it, eyes wide, hand still clamped tight. She heard Quinn say something but couldn't make out the phrase precisely before she made a dash for the stairs nearly tumbling into a crowd of drunken college students in her hurry.

On automatic she retraced her route back down the levels and found herself standing outside the front door taking in such deep breaths she thought she might hyperventilate. A group of kids sat smoking on the steps and her sudden arrival had caused all of them to stare at her rather strangely which wasn't something she was entirely unused to, she didn't even bother to smile or attempt to explain herself she simply hopped down the steps and planted herself firmly on the curb. Her brain was doing addition. Santana. Santana plus Quinn. Sex. These were all simple concepts and yet she couldn't seem to get them to fit together into one big picture despite that exact picture flashing through her thoughts whenever she became aware of her heartbeat.

And Santana's eyes, Santana's eyes were at the forefront. When she tried to close her eyelids to get a moment of peace from her hyperactive mind she only saw those eyes and she thought they'd drive her crazy.

"So what, you get off watching people?"

For a second Brittany legitimately thought she was having a heart attack, Santana stood over her with her arms crossed over her chest, hair still sexily tousled. She wanted to deny it but she just looked up at her stuck somewhere between awe and fear. Eventually she choked out, "No, I didn't mean to."

"Whatever." To her surprise Santana bent down and took the seat beside her, Brittany noticed she wasn't wearing any shoes. "If you tell anyone I'll fucking kill you."

Brittany nodded like a bobble head until Santana gave her a dirty look. They were quiet for a second watching people light up by an SUV in the parking lot.

"Quinn's fucked."

"Yeah, I saw that."

"N-no, I mean in the head." Did Santana Lopez just fucking stutter?

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"You guys do that a lot?"

"Sometimes, but she doesn't even, like, think about it. She always says she's drunk or that it didn't happen or something."

"Do you like girls?

"Depends on the girl."

"Cause we kissed."

"Yeah, I remember."

She definitely remembered.

"Do you like Quinn?"

"No."

"Oh, cause it looked like-"

"I don't like her, we just fuck."

"Right, and fucking isn't dating."

"Exactly."

Santana set her hands back on the concrete, supporting herself on flat palms.

"I wouldn't like her anyway, she needs too much damn attention, and she just plays everybody."

"Even you?"

Santana looked at her, a really piercing kind of look.

"It's just sex."

Brittany looked back at her and while she was incapable of matching her in intensity she managed to disarm her with blamelessness, she set her hand on top of Santana's on the sidewalk and said softly, "I know, sex is sex, it isn't dating, or anything, just sex."

Brittany looked from their hands to Santana's face, blinking slowly, her smile slight.

The front door slammed open.

"Stop hitting on me you fucking faggot!"

"Don't flatter yourself you freaking gorilla!"

Kurt was pushed backwards past them into the empty parking spaces, two or three bulky looking guys followed, hungry for blood.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean I would never dream of hitting on a half-brained Neanderthal like you."

"What did you call me?"

Kurt had on a look of utter shock at his own insulting responses, "I called you a Neanderthal! Or do you not know what that is? Should I slow all of this down for you?"

"How about I slow it down for you you little fag: We're. Gonna. Break. Your. Fucking. Legs."

Brittany felt Santana tense beside her and said the first thing that came to her mind, "He's not gay," The three jocks turned and looked at her, confused not only by her comment but by her identity, even Santana was looking at her weird. "He's not gay, we're dating."

She pushed herself up off the curb and walked to Kurt, drawing their gazes with the swish of her hips, she put her arm around his shoulders and smiled. Kurt kept his eyes on her face, she could feel him shaking, they were all quiet for a moment and she could hear the distance pumping of the music from inside the house and saw Santana stand up, ready to jump to their defense. Finally the guy who'd been spitting threats scowled and said, "Whatever, wait till Puckerman finds out that his booty call is dating a fruit."

He motioned with his hand and turned, walking away from the party and the other two followed suit. As soon as they were a good distance away Kurt seemed to deflate, his eyes that had been red-rimmed with the urge to cry finally flooded; he looked at his shiny shoes and brought the sleeve of his sweater to his eyes. Brittany rubbed his back and said soft words of comfort as he thanked her. Santana just watched them, not wanting to intrude on his moment of weakness, she watched Brittany speaking with him, calming him down and smiling.

She smiled too, she couldn't help it.

Eventually Brittany walked back over to her, "Hey, I'm gonna walk him home."

"Right, okay."

"I'll see you soon."

She turned around in a flash of blonde hair and took a few steps.

"Hey Brittany."

She turned back around, eyes expectant, Santana didn't even know why she'd stopped her.

"Goodnight."

Brittany beamed, teeth and everything before walking back and pressing her lips softly to Santana's cheek and keeping them there for a second longer than necessary.

"Goodnight Santana."


	3. Heart

"So what? You only date gay guys and then you come to my house and screw cause they won't?"

Brittany's eyes went wide as she carried a plate of biscuits and granola back to her table, she'd spent the night sleeping on Kurt's floor (after stopping by her dorm for sweatpants) having made herself a promise to protect him while he slept. He told her it was 'completely and utterly ridiculous' but smiled when she insisted so she figured he wasn't too annoyed. He'd even been nice enough to loan her one of his more masculine shirts for her breakfast run, masculine in the sense that it wasn't a woman's shirt and only vaguely smelled of perfume. She liked it, she liked Kurt.

"Go away."

She said to Puck, like he was some figment she had willed into existence and could dismiss until some more convenient time.

"Not until I get an explanation."

Puck followed her the remaining couple of feet to her table in the dining hall and sat down in the empty seat across from her.

"I told you, we aren't dating."

"Yeah, but we're screwing, so people assume things and I can't have people thinking the Puckasaurus is losing his chicks to some fag."

"Don't call him that."

The words sounded like a whip cracking, the force of them shocked him. So shocked in fact that he apologized.

"Jeeze, sorry, okay? "

"Good, Kurt's much nicer than you, he smells good."

Puck resisted the urge to check his armpits under the scrutiny of his hygiene, "So, you're telling me your actually dating that…guy?"

"It doesn't matter," Brittany's mouth was partially filled with biscuit, "I'm not dating you and I'm not Quinn."

"Why do you keep bringing up Quinn?"

Brittany swallowed, "Because you're like in love with her or something, but she's with Finn, so you get all sad and mopey and then we have sex. I thought you knew all of this." She was indicating different stages with the remainder of her biscuit causing flakey crumbs to fly into Puck's lap. He set his jaw and looked away from her in this mix of tough brooding and reluctant vulnerability, she finished off her biscuit and leaned over the table to ruffle his Mohawk in a playful way.

"How about you tell people that you dumped me and Kurt's like, my weird rebound or something?" Puck flattened his hair and scowled.

"Cause using me as Quinn isn't good for you I don't think."

Puck stood up slowly, as if he were making sure his legs were still working and looked at her with eyes filled with disgust, Brittany thought for a moment that it was a look Santana might have taught him.

"You don't know shit about me, stay away from my house from now on and tell your fag-boyfriend that the next time he comes to football practice to drool over the guys, he's gonna end up with a broken nose."

When she told Kurt he laughed and hooked their arms together, "Don't listen to him sweetie, he's just another boy who doesn't know what he wants."

Being banned from Puck's house was annoying only because it meant she had to spend time with Quinn or alone, neither of which were fantastic options and more than once Kurt found her sitting outside his dorm room looking all kinds of lost. She wanted to go see Santana, who'd she'd discovered lived somewhere off campus, "Her dad bought her an apartment her freshman year." Quinn had explained, "She pretty much gets whatever she wants money-wise."

She had to be careful how often she brought Santana up in conversation as not to set off any bitch moods in Quinn, which was hard because the girl was on her mind close to all of the time and the new found loneliness of not having Puck as a distraction was making it even harder. It was Kurt who first brought it up to her as she'd finally gotten so distracted by thoughts of Santana that she'd walked into a closed door.

"Okay Britt, what's up?"

He looked up from his copy of Italian Vogue as she rubbed her head.

"Huh?"

"I don't actually believe you forgot how to open doors, especially because you have more command over your body than I have scarves in my closet and you've been tripping up stairs for the past couple of days."

Brittany thought on it for a minute biting her bottom lip, "It's kind of weird."

"As long as it's not you asking me to cuddle, I think we'll be fine."

She tried to figure out how she was going to word it to him but instead found the entire idea blurted out in one very distinct phrase, "Santana Lopez."

Kurt looked for a moment like he was waiting for more before it clicked, "Oh. Wow. Okay. Uh, Quinn's friend right? Latina girl?" Kurt omitted his next comment, which was something along the lines of, 'the bitchy one?'

Kurt understood now, thought seemed difficult enough for Brittany on a day-to-day basis without the distraction of affection.

"Okay, tell me everything."

And she did.

By the time she was done Kurt's jaw was unhinged.

"Anyway, so they're having sex, which I think is funny because Quinn's got like what? Two or three boyfriends and she's sleeping with Santana."

"Whoa whoa whoa, Quinn Fabray is sleeping with Santana Lopez? You popular girls and your lesbian sex triangles."

"Mmhmm."

They'd broken out a bag of tortilla chips and took turns taking handfuls. The pair of them sat on Kurt's bed, cross-legged.

"Okay, this is what we're gonna do," Kurt scooted closer and put his hands on Brittany's shoulders, "I got a plan for us to snatch you up a piece of that."

"A piece of what?"

"Just listen, okay Britt?"

* * *

Santana put her hat on and took it off again, pushed her hair behind her ears and observed her reflection. She smoothed the make-up near her eyes and felt old, older than she was supposed to be. Taking a few steps back she lifted up her shirt and stared at her stomach, it was toned and light brown. She liked her skin tone. Her hands went up underneath her breasts, pushing them up, wishing they were bigger. She tensed the muscles of her stomach and frowned, its not like she wasn't hot it just wasn't…enough.

It hadn't been enough for Puck and wasn't enough for Quinn, never enough and now Brittany…

She sighed and let her shirt drop down, Brittany, dammit.

Quinn had invited her over to the dorm and she'd shown up, as per request, she didn't know why she was still doing this. It had started freshman year in one of the assemblies during welcome week when Quinn had walked up and introduced herself as if she were going to be harmless. Santana had known right away that she was smart, smarter than she let on, that sharp cunning smart that scared people. It hadn't scared her. It was two weeks before the girl who never took her cross off was on all fours on Santana's living room couch, saying words no good Christian girl should know the meaning of.

It had been like that ever since, through all of their boyfriends, even when they hated each other, it was the only constant thing and truer than any relationship she'd had. No matter how many times Quinn left, when her hands were on her, Santana felt like enough.

That doesn't mean it didn't hurt every time.

Quinn was doing homework when she showed up, she had her hair up and it showed her neck.

"Hey," She had a nice smile, "I'll be done in a second, and we can go get dinner or something."

"Right." They wouldn't be getting dinner, that wasn't why she was here; Quinn didn't ask her over at ten o'clock in a four-word text to go to dinner. Santana boosted herself up onto Quinn's bed, the opposite side of the room looked nearly unlived in besides a pile of books on the desk alongside some dance magazines and a few belongings, Brittany hadn't put up any personal touches since her arrival.

"Why doesn't she just move out?"

Quinn looked up from her studying and over to the emptier side of the room, "She leaves notes," Quinn indicated a rather large collection of sticky notes stuck on the back of the door, "I think she's at Kurt's tonight."

"Kurt?"

"Mhm, he's one of Mercedes friends, studies fashion."

"Yeah, I know him."

She remembered the confrontation in front of Mercedes house and the tears that had been on the boys face.

"Her boyfriend right?"

Quinn looked up from her work, confused.

"I'm kidding."

"Right, well I gotta get this psych stuff done."

Santana sighed and fell flat on one of Quinn's oversized body pillows, the entire thing felt awkward. She looked back over to Brittany's side of the room and tried to imagine where she was, Kurt lived in a dorm, was it this building? The one down the street? She couldn't ask Quinn without letting on to her curiosity her…affection? Whatever it was, Quinn would do her best to make Brittany's life hell if she became aware that the girl was 'messing around in her territory.' It'd happened before. Speaking of which, Santana slipped her phone out of the too tight pocket of her jeans.

'Do you know where Lady-Face lives?'

She looked at the ceiling while she waited for a response.

'Do you mean Kurt?'

It had been awhile since they'd spoken but Rachel never minded, the girl had received many a depressed drunken text on especially bad nights since their encounters freshman year and was always willing to keep secrets from Quinn.

'Uh-huh, that's what I said isn't it?'

'Right, I see you haven't changed. Hello by the way, it's been awhile hasn't it? I heard you were over a while ago for that party Mercedes had while I was at auditions in Chicago. You could have left a note, though I heard you left something else in Tina's room, thank you for having the respect not to use my bed this time, still I don't see why'

Rachel had apparently surpassed her phones character limit and was no doubt tapping out a new message as Santana read through the wall of text that had assaulted her iPhone's screen.

'Chill Berry."

'Right, sorry, he lives in Johnson, fifth floor I think, can't remember which room but it shouldn't be hard to find, it's probably the only one with sequins.'

'Look at you making jokes! : )'

': /'

'Thank you.'

'No problem, stop by sometime though, won't you?'

'Sure.'

'By the way, what did I leave in Tina's room?'

'Panties, though I guess they might be Quinn's'

'Right, sorry.'

'It's fine. Santana, take care.'

'Will do, you too.'

' : )'

"Who are you texting?"

Apparently she'd crossed the line into suspicious behavior. First name that came to mind, Brittany, wait no, second name, "Puck."

"I thought he had practice tonight? Finn does."

Dammit.

"You know Puckerman, he always finds time to be an ass."

"Didn't know you two were talking again."

She didn't buy it but she wouldn't call her out.

"I'm humoring him."

"Don't go back there, San."

"Excuse me?"

Santana sat up on the bed, indignant at her friend's boldness.

"Don't go back to him or anything, I mean, you were miserable with him."

"I was not."

Quinn gave her a doubtful look, "Plus I thought you'd be pretty anti-Puck right now considering who he's been sleeping with."

"What?"

"Oh come on San, he's been screwing Brittany since your gig."

Santana just furrowed her brow and shook her head, confused.

"She's over there all the time."

Quinn faked her concerned face, "Sorry, San. I thought you knew."

For a second Santana saw a vivid image of his hands on her and she thought she might throw up, then she thought she might punch a hole in something, the latter sentiment seemed to her to be more sensible and she got off of Quinn's bed to head for the door, walking thunder.

"Where're you going?"

"To go visit Puckerman."

"What? I thought we were going to-"

"Sorry if I'm kinda turned off by your holier-than-thou bitch act."

Before Quinn could formulate a quip Santana was out the door, slamming it so hard all of Brittany's sticky notes fell in a neon flutter of goodbyes and scribbled smiley-faces.

* * *

Brittany liked Santana's apartment, it had lots of mirrors and a pretty big television. She was hungry and had thought about going through the pantry but thought it best not to touch anything. Kurt's plan had been to show up at her door unannounced, apparently that was supposed to be romantic but Brittany thought it might just be inconvenient if Santana was sleeping or brushing her teeth or something.

They'd gotten the address from one of Kurt's friends who had it because of 'something complicated' as Kurt put it. She'd said something about it being a coincidence because Santana had had a similar question earlier and then a whole bunch of other stuff that had taken up Kurt's whole phone inbox and she hadn't wanted to read it all. Kurt said she was always like that. Anyway, she'd known the code to get into the building too which had been really convenient because Santana hasn't answered. She hadn't answered the door either but that had been unlocked so here she was sitting on Santana's couch looking around. It was only a one bedroom but the kitchen was a nice size and the furniture wasn't the conventional college student 'bought at a thrift store' variety. She sat with her hands on her lap.

Kurt had done her make up and he'd done a pretty good job but the stuff around her eyes had started to itch and she had kind of messed it up. Through the open door next to the television she could see Santana's room, there were some clothes on the floor and the rest of the room was dark, she wanted to get up and look but already felt as if she was trespassing and didn't want to test her luck. That was until she squinted and saw Santana's guitar.

It was leaning up against the wall just where the darkness began; she bit her lip and looked behind her, as if Santana would be standing there angrily. When no such visage appeared she got up and tiptoed towards it.

The bedroom was about as big as the living room, the bed had white sheets with a red comforter and a bureau scattered with make-up. Brittany checked her face in the mirror again; yeah she'd messed up her eye make-up. Her lips were smeared too though she didn't know how.

Brittany checked her surroundings again, fearing irrationally that Santana might burst from her closet and accuse her of breaking and entering. She touched some of the make-up, nervous that an alarm might go off; when none did she picked up the lipstick. It was a bright red color, probably too red for Santana's complexion and as such lightly used. She twisted it out a bit further, looking at it in her hand as well as its reflection; she pressed the tip of it to her lips.

* * *

The first thing she did when she saw him was punch him in the chest, or at least that's what she tried to do. It turned out Quinn had been right and he was at football practice, meaning when her hand connected it was mostly met with the painful crunch of football pads. He did stumble back a few feet though.

"Whoa, what the hell babe?"  
"Do not call me that."

"Fine, fine!"

He was holding his helmet in his hand; the rest of the team had gone back to the field without him. He'd broken off as soon as he'd seen her walking up.

"So why the violence?"

"Why the hell have you been fucking Brittany?"

Puck rolled his eyes, "You're kind of late to the hurting the hell out of my pride party Lopez."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't tell anyone it went down like this okay cause I got all of them convinced I was the one who did the breaking, but she dropped me like, a week ago okay? I'm not gonna get my ass kicked for something I'm not even fringing the benefits of anymore."

"She dropped you?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

The look Puck managed was somewhere between kicked puppy and angrily defenseless.

"I don't know."

"That's a lie. Spill it Puckerman."

"Why the hell would I do that? You just show up at my football practice and hit me so you think I'm gonna-"

She grabbed the mesh collar of his football uniform, "Tell me."

"Jeeze okay, she thought I was using her to replace Quinn or some shit, would you just chill out?"

She released him and stomped away, he straightened up his shoulder pads.

"Girl is crazy."

She'd banged on Kurt's door for about twenty minutes before giving up. Rachel had been right; it was the only one with sequins. It was late by then and she didn't want to bother Berry with questions she probably wouldn't be able to answer so she'd decided to go home.

It took her a few seconds to realize that the lights were on in her apartment and by the lights she meant all of them, the kitchen lights, the living room lights and her bedroom light, when she checked later the bathroom one was on too. Her first thought was that if someone was intruding to try and steal from her they weren't being very subtle about it, unless they worked for the electric company. From the living room she could see that her guitar was missing which evoked a momentary panic that caused her to rush in.

Brittany was on her bed with her shoes still on, asleep over her covers. The neck of Santana's acoustic guitar held in her arms like a lover. She examined the rest of the room, seeing if the girl had gone through anything. All she found was a note written on the mirror in her red lipstick.

'Hey Santana, Kurt had this plan for me to come over and surprise you but you weren't home so I was gonna leave then I-'

Brittany had run out of mirror and continued the not on the wood of the bureau.

'-realized you left your door unlocked and didn't want anyone to steal anything so I thought I'd stay and-'

Once again she'd run out of space, the rest of the message was on the outside of the top drawer

'-that's why all of the lights are on-'

Brittany.

Beside her name there was a heart.


End file.
